


Moonlit Debut

by deleiterious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Escape, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Mild Gore, Rare Pairings, Red Riding Hood Elements, Zine: A Lost Ballroom of Gold - An FE3H Masquerade AU Rarepair Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 22:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious
Summary: Bernadetta, the only heir to the Varley fortune, has a bounty on her head.To shake off her pursuers, she ventures where no one else would dare -- a forest known for its monsters.xRaphadetta Red Riding Hood / Werewolf AU.
Relationships: Raphael Kirsten/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: A Lost Ballroom of Gold





	Moonlit Debut

The fine necklace draped around Bernadetta's collar feels more like a shackle than an ornament. The glittering stones, meant as a display of Varley fortune, hang heavy around her neck. Her ladies-in-waiting eye the necklace hungrily. Bernadetta wishes she could dash it to the floor and let them have it.

She stares at her reflection in the polished mirror, silent as stone. Her long dark hair has been plaited, pinned across the top of her head to resemble a crown or a halo. Her eyelids are weighed by cosmetic powder, her cheeks artificially bright with the liberal use of blush. Her lips have been painstakingly painted a bright red. She looks nothing like the awkward, reclusive daughter of Count Varley.

The sons of Adrestia's noble houses would never agree to marry _that_ Bernadetta, the real Bernadetta.

"Chin up, my lady," her lady-in-waiting trills. Its meaning is meant to be literal.

Tonight, she will be as good as married off. Her father expects her to find a well-heeled husband, preferably as high up the social hierarchy as possible. Eligible bachelors from far and wide have gathered in the ballroom of Varley manor to meet her. Bernadetta tries to take a fortifying breath, but her corset does not allow for much air.

"Your mask, my lady."

A delicately crafted mask, dyed the deepest purple and dusted with gold, sits upon a lush, velvet pillow. Her lady-in-waiting lifts the mask to Bernadetta's face, lacing the ribbons together behind her head. It fits snugly against the top half of her face, drawing all the attention to her eyes and lips. Given the prominent crest on the mask, no one will doubt for a moment who she is. After all, it is her ball.

All the attendees at her ball will be masked. Entirely her mother's idea, stemming from a misplaced sense of thoughtfulness over Bernadetta's lack of social confidence.

Before she leaves the dressing chamber, Bernadetta steals a glance out the arched window.

A bright moon, almost full, hangs in the night air like the center of a compass.

_Soon_ , she thinks. _Soon._

  
  


* * *

  
  


What feels like a hundred eyes follow her every step down the staircase. The presence of so many people in masks makes her feel like a circus animal. There are gasps of surprise and murmurs of approval. She knows the court gossip paints her very poorly, as a bizarre and homely dame utterly lacking in any appeal. Her mother does her utmost to dispel those rumors, but it does little. Bernadetta wonders what her mother said or did to get so many suitors to show up tonight, despite her reputation.

Bernadetta catches her father's gaze across the ballroom, his piercing eyes narrowed. She swallows the knot of dread in her throat and lifts her chin out of habit. Beside him, her mother nods at her in approval. Dressed up like a cake on display, Bernadetta plasters on a smile to greet her suitors.

After hours on her feet, Bernadetta tires, wondering when it will cease. She peers over the shoulder of her current dance partner. On the outskirts, her father is making conversation with a nobleman she recognizes, one clearly interested in pursuing her. Tonight, he has danced with her not once, not twice, but three times. Each time, he holds her a little tighter, like he might want to own her.

_Soon_ , she thinks frantically, as she spins on the ballroom floor.

At the appointed hour, while the guests are squeezing in their last dance, Bernadetta excuses herself to the powder room, ostensibly to put on a fresh face. As soon as the powder room door closes behind her, Bernadetta tears off her mask, her panicked breathing pouring out of her like a dam that has burst.

"Bernie," comes a concerned voice. Gentle, familiar hands rub soothing circles on her aching back.

"Dorothea," Bernadetta gasps, relieved to see her closest confidante beside her. Dorothea is dressed in a simple maid's uniform, as previously discussed.

"Quickly, Bernie, we don't have much time," Dorothea urges her, beginning to divest.

Bernadetta pulls herself together, unclasping the heavy necklace that hangs from her neck. Dorothea, dressed down to nothing but her small clothes, begins to undo the back of Bernadetta's ornate gown. Bernadetta takes a deep breath of air as soon as the corset comes off. They swap outfits quickly, exchanging few words. With shaking hands, Bernadetta ties the Varley mask around Dorothea's face and closes the necklace around her friend's neck.

Dorothea effortlessly slips on her wig and applies makeup with the practiced hand of an operatic actress. In moments, Dorothea looks the spitting image of Bernadetta, dressed in all her finery.

"I will keep my distance from your parents and ladies-in-waiting until the end of the ball," Dorothea reminds her, rushed. "No one will be able to tell until you're long gone and I'll have costume changed back by then." Dorothea adjusts the maid's cap around Bernadetta's ears, tucking in her remarkably violet hair. Her friend, beautiful in her own right, smiles at her. "Petra will be waiting for you, darling."

Bernadetta nods, her heart pounding in her chest. "Thank you," she says, her chest so tight she can hardly stand it.

"Think nothing of it. We shall be reunited in Enbarr, the three of us." Her green eyes sparkle in the dim candlelight. Dorothea clasps Bernadetta's trembling hands. "You can do this, Bernie." Dorothea's voice channels strength and tenacity. Bernadetta, though frightened, feels bolstered.

Voices approach the powder room, and Dorothea immediately straightens, her posture regal and elegant. "Go, now," she whispers.

Bernadetta ducks from the room, her eyes cast downward. As expected, the noblewomen don't even spare her a passing glance. Dressed as a maid, she is beneath their notice. Bernadetta hurries to the kitchens. She exits the back door with ease, hurrying on foot toward the stables, where Dorothea's trusty steed awaits.

In the horse's saddlebag, she finds Dorothea's finest cloak, dyed a gorgeous wine-red. She drapes it across her shoulders and pulls the hood low over her face. They would never let her exit the manor dressed as a servant, after all. Bernadetta clutches the reins of the horse, and nudges it toward the manor's gates. The guards hardly notice her, or the archer's bow and quiver tucked into the saddlebag.

"We bid you a good evening, Miss Arnault."

Bernadetta says nothing, worried her voice will betray her. She nods and urges the horse onward. When the manor is nothing but a silhouette in the distance, Bernadetta releases a sigh.

_Freedom at last._

* * *

  
  


The relief does not last. Bernadetta tightens the red cloak around her, fingers wrapped around her bow. She knows about the men her father sent after her. Should they discover her, this may be the last time she ever steps foot outside the Varley estate.

To throw off their trail, she leaves Dorothea's horse at an outpost where she feels confident her friend will be able to retrieve the mare.

_The rest_ , Bernadetta realizes, _will have to be on foot_.

She tries not to draw attention to herself, but dressed in a cloak this fine, Bernadetta is hard-pressed to blend into the local scenery. She can feel the suspicious gazes of people following her everywhere she goes. Even now.

_Do not run_ , she tells herself, _just walk, calmly_.

Bernadetta keeps her eyes peeled on the forest ahead. The only way to reach Petra at the meeting location in time is to cross the Beastly Forest, known across all of Adrestia for its otherworldly horrors. In the gleam of dusk, it hardly looks like anything more than a simple forest, but looks can be deceiving. Still, without Dorothea's horse, she has no other choice. She needs to make up for travel time lost.

Bernadetta squares her shoulders and walks directly in.

* * *

  
  


Raphael Kirsten is a simple man. He spends his days chopping lumber and trapping game to sell to the nearby boroughs, and otherwise keeps to himself. His cabin, a modest dwelling that some may call ramshackle, sits at the edge of the Beastly Forest. Because of the forest's reputation as a dangerous place, not many people cross his path. Ignatz and Leonie, his friends from the neighboring hamlet, sometimes come by to see him. But never on nights of the full moon.

Because while Raphael may be a simple man, he's also a werewolf.

It doesn't bother him much. The transformation itself feels awfully itchy, but it's not all that bad. Sure, he grows to double his already formidable size, with a slavering maw full of razor-sharp teeth. But Raphael's perfectly capable of thinking clearly during the full moon, although he loses his ability to render human speech. His friends stay away those nights because they worry what other people will do to him if they catch on to what he is.

People lash out at what they don't understand. Raphael knows that all too well, since he has the huntsman-inflicted scars all over his body to prove it.

Raphael heaves a sigh as the sun begins to sink toward the horizon. It's about that time of the month again.

Raphael's work bench creaks with age as he gets up. He wipes his hands down on an old towel and admires the progress he's made on his wood carvings. He plans to sell them in town as knick-knacks or decorations.

Acting on rote memory, he lumbers over to the tiny kitchen to retrieve a bundle wrapped in paper and twine. He undoes the knot and starts to shovel the sheaf of dried jerky into his mouth, barely chewing. It takes a lot of meat to keep him from getting hungry, and Raphael doesn't like being hungry in his werewolf form.

Belly filled, Raphael wipes the crumbs from his mouth and glances out the window. The sun has disappeared below the tree line. In minutes, night will blanket the entire forest. He can already feel the familiar pull of the moon, rising behind the trees. Raphael cranes his head out the front door of the cabin, just to make sure no one has stumbled into the forest. It's rare, but he just wants to be careful not to be seen.

When the coast is clear, Raphael shucks off all his clothes. He folds them neatly and plops them onto the chair beside the door. The prickling sensation begins and Raphael holds back a growl of irritation. The hand he sets on the doorknob has already started to sprout tuffs of tawny fur. Raphael yanks the door open and shuts it quickly behind him. It's only then, safely out of the house, that he lets the moon make its claim.

An enormous wolf bounds away from the lone cabin in the woods, disappearing deep into the forest.

* * *

Bernadetta jerks at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance. She turns, all of her senses on high alert.

A squirrel skitters up a tree behind her, twisting out of view. Bernadetta breathes out a sigh of relief.

_Silly Bernie. Of course, it is nothing! They must call this place the Beastly Forest because of all the animals. There are so many of them here._

She shakes her head with a smile, her eyes sliding over the shiny acorn that the squirrel left behind. She thinks of pocketing it, to sketch in her notebook when she arrives safely in Enbarr. It could be something of a souvenir, proof that she braved the Beastly Forest and survived. Bernadetta leans down and slips it into her bag.

With a prick of dread, Bernadetta watches as the sun begins to set behind the tree line. She draws the fur-lined hood of her cloak closer to her face to shield it from wind and forces herself to keep walking. Despite the forest's relative safety, Bernadetta does not want to spend any more time in this place than absolutely necessary.

* * *

  
  


Raphael noses his snout through a pile of old leaves, pawing the pile out of his den. They crunch and crinkle beneath his giant paws, some simply disintegrating into brittle pieces from age. Once Raphael's den is acceptably clean, he curls in the corner to wait out the remainder of the night.

A few nocturnal creatures scurry across the outcropping of rocks above him. His ears twitch at the sound, but he doesn't move. Most of the animals in this forest steer clear of him. Maybe, beneath it all, they can tell he's really a just human.

Soon, Raphael falls into a light slumber. He dreams of odd things, but the dream doesn't last long.

Raphael's yellow eyes flare open. That's when he smells her.

A _human_ , walking through the forest.

* * *

Bernadetta's jaw cracks as she fails to stifle an unbecoming yawn. She has been walking with the moonlight as her guide for hours. By her count, morning is just around the corner. She desperately wants to stop and rest, but she knows better than to take a break. She can tell by the silhouette in the distance that she may be close to reaching the edge of the forest.

Bernadetta's journey comes to an abrupt halt as she reaches a narrow ravine. The gap between her and the other side is far too large to safely jump. An ice-cold flood of disappointment envelops her.

She stares numbly at the bottom of the ravine, trying to think.

She could always walk around; it is wholly possible the ravine does not stretch out too far. She could wait until the sun comes out, to give her more light to see by. But none of those options are tempting.

_Moonlight will need to be enough._

Bernadetta grits her teeth, silently rebuking herself for what she is about to attempt. Bernadetta slips the bow across her shoulder to hold it in place, and pulls a ribbon from her hair to hold the quiver fast to her leg. She does not want her only source of protection jostling around or falling out while she tries to manage this ravine.

She ends up dusty and disheveled, but otherwise unharmed when she finally reaches its bottom. Climbing up the other side, however, is a completely different experience.

Half-way up the opposite wall, her arms begin to tremble from exertion. Bernadetta winces, squeezing her eyes shut tight against the innumerable cuts that have appeared on her soft palms. If she lets go now, the drop will be injurious. She clutches desperately to the tiny handholds, pressing her trembling body against the rock.

A small well of tears begins to form at the corner of her eyes. She is simply too weak to continue, but she is terrified of letting go, of _falling_.

_Goddess above, what if I just die here? Alone in the woods?_ It is that thought that pulls the tears down her cheeks. She shakes from the sheer exhaustion of trying not to let go.

Just when she thinks she can hold on no longer, a long, sinewy vine unfurls from the top and hangs beside her. Bernadetta stares at it, dumbfounded.

_Is this...help?_

She tugs on it gingerly, and finds it stable and steady, as if anchored to something sturdy.

"T-thank you," she calls out above her, hoping the good Samaritan can make out her watery voice. She slowly transitions her limbs over to the vine, pressing her cheek to the cool stem of the plant in relief. Once she feels ready, she tugs on the vine gently, hoping the signal is clear.

With surprising speed and strength, the person on the other end of the vine pulls her up. Bernadetta watches in wonder as the bottom of the ravine shrinks beneath her. She gratefully latches onto the lip of the cliff as it comes into reach, her wounded hands screaming from effort. She crawls to a flat surface on her hands and knees, feeling pitiful, ashamed, and most of all, relieved. She crumples into a disgraceful heap on the ground, trying to catch her breath.

Something wet nuzzles her face and Bernadetta recoils back from shock.

A soft whine rumbles out of a throat. And it's not her throat. It's not even a _human_ throat.

A gigantic wolf blinks at her with wild golden eyes, the vine that saved her hanging out its mouth. It drops it to the ground, like a dog offering her its favorite stick.

Bernadetta scrambles back, her voice lost.

It cocks its head at her questioningly, its fluffy ears lowering back on its head.

"S-stay back!" she squeaks, stumbling to her feet in spite of her obvious terror.

The wolf lowers its head and whines; she wonders if it might be some kind of entreaty. Bernadetta shakes so badly that her knees knock together. It releases another pitiful whine, looking torn between approaching her or taking off.

Something in Bernadetta's brain reminds her that she is, in fact, armed for this very situation. Well, not for _this_ very situation, but situations like it. Bernadetta yanks an arrow out of her quiver and shakily nocks it against her bow.

Beneath the waning glow of the moon, the wolf's liquid gold eyes widen as if in understanding. Its lips draw back to reveal a full set of knife-sharp teeth.

Bernadetta blanches in fear. She has never shot a live target before. Adrenaline pounds through her veins: frightening, fortifying, and electric. Somehow, it keeps her focused and standing.

The wolf releases something like a snarl, but when it makes it to her ears, it sounds almost...human. It makes another attempt, and Bernadetta stares at it wide-eyed. For a moment, she even considers responding.

Bernadetta shakes the ridiculous notion out of her head. _This is not a fairytale, Bernie! Wolves cannot speak!_

Her eyes catch sight of movement in the wolf's front paws. Without thinking, her fingers lose their grip, releasing her deadly arrow. She can only describe the look it gives her as one of pure shock. Her arrow cuts through the air, soundless, and sinks itself deep into the wolf's shoulder. She watches in mute horror as fresh blood seeps onto its beautiful coat.

The silence is shattered by an almighty howl of anguish, raising all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

Bernadetta sways on her feet, bile rising in the back of her throat. _What have I done?_

The wolf wheezes and pants, excess saliva pooling to the forest floor out of its mouth. It slowly backs away from her, pupils blown wide in fear.

Shaking in her boots, Bernadetta feels nothing but shame and pity. She can see now that it meant her no harm. She hurt an innocent animal.

Tail tucked between its hind legs, the wolf suddenly turns and flees into the underbrush, leaving a slick, scarlet trail behind it. Barely visible through the canopy of trees, the sun begins to rise. Before it can get too far, the creature stumbles, crashing into the forest floor in a billow of dust. It suddenly begins to thrash and writhe like a creature possessed. Bernadetta's throat closes up in shock at the horrific sight.

When the dust settles back into the loam, there is no wolf.

The form of a man, fully nude, stumbles up from that patch of earth, one arm clutching at his bloodstained shoulder. _Her_ arrow, the very same one, protrudes out of his body.

Bernadetta can scarcely believe what she is seeing.

"W-wait," she croaks, her hand outstretched toward him.

The man staggers forward, faster on his feet than she expects, not daring to look back.

Bernadetta's heart pounds so loud in her chest she feels it might just burst.

* * *

  
  


Raphael crashes through the front door of his cabin in a haze of terror and pain. He makes it all but two steps into his home before the hardwood floor rushes up to meet him. Raphael groans into the floorboards, his hand clutching at the arrow embedded in his shoulder. Blood pools beneath his shoulder blades.

With great effort, his eyes lift toward the medical aid kit on his countertop. He knows how to remove the arrow. He knows how to patch himself up. This isn't his first time being attacked by a fellow human. But he's lost so much blood he can't even get up from the floor.

_That human…_

Raphael takes a deep, fortifying breath, trying to muster the energy to crawl over to his medical kit. The pain is agonizing. After what feels like an eternity, his hand lands on top of the box. It drops off the countertop onto the floor, sending supplies skittering everywhere.

Raphael's eyelids feel heavy. His eyesight starts to blur. The hand in front of him turns into nothing more than an indistinct blob. He can't even lift his head off the floor anymore. Raphael starts to wonder if this is it.

The door creaks open and a pair of eyes, filled with fear and trepidation, meet his. He knows those eyes.

His voice, thin and pain-streaked, sounds pathetic to his own ears. "Stay...away..."

Those gray eyes stare and stare.

"Please, don't...hurt me..."

The figure steps out from behind the door.

Raphael doesn't even flinch. He no longer has the energy to. His vision rapidly begins to white-out, as if a snowstorm has built up beneath his eyelids.

The figure crouches down to him. Fingers brush hair from his face.

Then, nothing.

* * *

  
  


When Raphael wakes, he jolts into sitting position.

_What a horrible nightmare!_

The wound in his shoulder screams in protest and he swears, instinctively clutching at it. To his surprise, he finds the arrow missing from his shoulder. In fact, the wound has been neatly patched up, with far more finesse than he has ever been capable of. He lifts up the bandages with the edge of his fingernail, eyebrows rising in amazement at the neat and tiny stitches sewn into his skin.

Raphael gingerly gets up and an oddly familiar red cloak flutters off him to the ground. He stands there, in the middle of his tiny cabin, fully nude when she appears from out of view. Releasing a yelp of embarrassment, she claps her hands over her eyes.

Raphael freezes in place, jaw dropping open. _The human!_

"I apologize! I did not r-realize you were awake!" she exclaims.

"You," splutters Raphael, backing as far from her as he can. "It's you! You... _shot_ me!"

"I am so sorry! I truly did not mean to!" she squeaks from behind her hands.

Raphael blinks at her in disbelief.

"C-could...you put some clothes on please?" she whispers, sounding properly scandalized.

Raphael clears his throat. _Right. I'm still naked._ He strides across the cabin to the door and finds his clothes neatly folded. He remembers knocking over this chair when he came in. But right now, nothing looks out of place. He stares at the floorboards, surprised by the absence of blood. _Did...she clean?_

"Um..." she begins.

"Wait!" he responds quickly. He struggles into his small clothes and a ratty pair of pants. Putting on a shirt, he finds, is incredibly difficult with his right shoulder completely out of commission. He sighs and lets the bunched shirt hang loose from his neck. It's the best he can do right now.

Finally, her elegant fingers lower from her face. She keeps her gaze on the floor. "I am truly sorry," she says again, with genuine sorrow. "I was scared and I acted without thinking. I did not mean to hurt you. Are you...are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," he responds, surprised by her concern.

"Thank the goddess," she breathes, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Raphael jaw relaxes. She seems sincere. "You...you're not from around here. What are you doing in this forest?"

She bites her lip. "I am...trying to reach Enbarr."

"There's a road that goes around, with a sign and everything," explains Raphael with a raised brow. "It's dangerous to cut through here."

"I know," she admits quietly.

"Then, why did you--"

"I am trying not to get caught. There is...a bounty for my capture." She wrings her hands, her cheeks pale as snow.

Raphael's golden eyes go round. "A bounty?"

_I guess she must be a little like me._

"That is why I went through the forest," she explains, looking up at him. She quickly averts her eyes at the sight of his bare chest. "I...um..." She coughs daintily into her hand. "Do you need assistance with your tunic?"

Raphael feels his cheeks heat. He knows it's not proper to be dressed like this in front of other people. "If...if you don't mind," he utters, more gruffly than usual.

"It _is_ my fault," she concedes, edging closer to him. Her soft hands thread through the folded shirt and she slowly, but gently, starts to help him slot his arms through the sleeves. Her touch is so soothing that he almost leans into it.

He watches her eyes closely, searching for the fear that he saw in them before. It's there, hidden in the depths, but not nearly as prominent. "You're not scared of me anymore?"

Her fingers freeze as they pull the tunic down over his abs. Her cheeks burn a brilliant crimson. "N-not as much." This close, she looks very pretty. Also, small. She finishes helping him with the shirt and takes a decorous step back.

Raphael knits his brows together in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because you saved me. I may not have realized it at the time, since...well...you were a wolf, but you did save me."

"I wasn't trying to scare you," he tells her.

"I figured as much...afterward."

"Afterward?"

The pretty blush comes back full-force. "After you, um, turned into a man." 

"Right." Raphael coughs, the silence suffocating.

"So you are..."

Raphael nods. "Yeah, a werewolf."

She blinks at him in shock. "I meant...your name?"

Raphael flushes. He supposes he's not too good with conversational cues, since he spends so much of his time in the forest away from other people. "Oh, that, right. I'm Raphael."

She smiles tremulously. "Bernadetta, but you can call me Bernie. If you like."

* * *

Bernadetta stares nervously out the window of Raphael's cabin. She tightens Dorothea's red cloak around her shoulders.

She knows she should be going soon. She does not have much time left to reach the rendezvous point now, not after spending so much time here. She glances over her shoulder. Raphael lays sleeping on a bed that barely fits him. He snores lightly in his sleep, which she finds strangely endearing.

Raphael has been so properly nice to her, even after she shot him. She is not sure what to expect from a werewolf, but if Raphael is anything to go by, they seem truly kind. Kinder than anyone she has ever met at Varley manor.

He offered her food, a place to sleep, and even to find her a horse.

She is thankful he is willing to help, but she knows how dangerous it is for him to associate with her. Raphael has a secret of his own to keep, one that might even get him killed if discovered. They should stay far away from each other.

_Maybe, one day, our paths will cross again, Raphael._

She rests her hand on the doorknob, giving him one last bittersweet look.

She turns it and closes the door quietly behind her.

* * *

"Hey!"

Bernadetta freezes in place, terrified that she's been caught on her way out of the forest.

"Hey, Bernie!"

Bernadetta jerks her gaze over shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Raphael, waving at her with his one good arm. When he catches up to her, he isn't even out of breath. Bernadetta wishes she had that kind of endurance. The color in his face, she notes, looks a lot better now.

"Raphael?"

He flaps a sheet of parchment in her face. The note she left him, to tell him goodbye. It feels rather embarrassing to have it waved in her face right now.

"What's this supposed to be?" he asks, cocking his head quizzically at her. She cannot believe she ever thought his wolf form was a threat. He looks at her just like he did then, like a lovable puppy.

"Ah," Bernadetta struggles to find the right words, "it is...a note."

Raphael laughs. "Right, I got that part. But what's it say? I can't read."

Bernadetta clutches her cape in shock. "You...cannot read?"

Raphael grins. "Haven't needed to, until now I guess. Mind reading this to me?"

"Oh," Bernadetta feels her body warm with mortification, "it is...um..." She has trouble looking him in the eye. He is simply too tall, too muscular; his eyes too warm. It feels like she is drowning in liquid gold.

He hands her the little square of parchment paper and she takes it with some hesitation. She stares hard at her overly flowery language and cannot bring herself to read it out loud.

"Well?" Raphael leans over her, his breath ghosting over her cheek.

"It says...thanks for the jerky."

Raphael brightens. "Well, you're in luck. I brought some with me so we could snack on something while we head over to Leonie's to pick you up a horse."

"Oh..." Bernadetta's heart drops through her stomach. "That is...kind of you, but I will not be going to Leonie's."

"Why not? Don't you need a horse?"

Bernadetta squirms beneath his golden-eyed gaze. "Not necessarily."

Suddenly, the smile slips off his face. "You're leaving." Raphael shakes his head. "Didn't you tell me there are men after you? It's dangerous out there."

"It is dangerous for you too! I saw the scars!" she blurts, then quickly claps her hands over her mouth.

Raphael stares at her, stunned. His eyes darken momentarily at the memory, then softens when his eyes focus on her again. "That's nothing to worry about, Bernie."

"I would hate to see you hurt again because of me," she murmurs, her eyes dropping to her boots.

"C'mon, who's going to know what I am if you keep my secret?" Raphael tries, lighthearted. "I only turn once a month, and right now I'm about as human as you are."

"But..."

"I promise my friend will be discreet about the horse. I'll even ride with you part of the way if you want."

"You would do that for me?" she says, slightly dazed.

"Of course!" Raphael's eyes soften again. "You made sure I was safe, and now I'm making sure you're safe."

"But...but I shot you."

"Yeah." He chuckles, as if the entire horrifying ordeal is now nothing but a fun memory to him. "C'mon, Leonie's is this way."

"But..."

Bernadetta's half-hearted protests are swept off by the wind through the trees. Raphael points ahead, to a barely discernible path through the thicket. The sunshine reflects off his brilliant blonde hair, like a halo.

She hurries to follow him, for once feeling light and unburdened.

**Author's Note:**

> See the full, free, and gorgeous zine here: https://anyflip(dot)com/mjnnw/chou/
> 
> Thank you for reading. As always, comments are sincerely appreciated and incredibly motivational. (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) <3


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